


With you (I'm alive)

by nothingbutniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Zayn is dead, he doesn't die in the fic though so I didn't tag it major character death, mentions of illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 08:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15239109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: When Zayn dies, he leaves Liam a box of letters to guide him through life. Somewhere along the way, a boy named Niall starts holding his hand.





	With you (I'm alive)

**Author's Note:**

> After working on this story on and off for more than 3 years, this fic is finally seeing the light. I started working on this before Zayn even left the band, so it's been a looooong process, but I'm so happy to share it with you now. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Title from Sad Song by We The Kings ft. Elena Coats.)

_“If the storms don’t come_  
_the grass won’t grow,_  
_If we never leave_  
_we’ll never go._  
_Brave the winds,_  
_brave the rain,_  
_hearts will mend_  
_despite the pain.”_  
_(Tyler Knott Gregson)_

//

 

**Open when I’m no longer here.**

So.

This is it then.

It feels good to write that down. It’s getting harder to keep fighting.

(I'm sorry if it hurts you to read that. It hurts me to admit it, too. I try to be strong, for you, but being strong for someone else isn’t the same. Fighting for yourself might seem selfish, but it’s the only way you stay alive. I'm fighting for you now, fighting to get you out of this with as little pain as possible, but the longer I live, the more it’ll hurt you to let me go. I have to go in order for you to hurt less. Every day we don’t get to spend together will be a day that won’t be able to appear in your dreams and make you cry when you wake up.)

I can picture you now, tearstained cheeks and glossy eyes, trembling fingers like you don’t know if you’re going to rip this apart or keep it neatly folded in your pocket. Or maybe you’ll keep this, read the words again and again until you know them by heart, could say them backwards if you had to, and then you’ll destroy it. Like I destroyed you, by keeping you close even when I knew I would never be able to give you a forever and always. It’s the least you deserved and I couldn’t give it to you.

(You deserved so much, but you got me.)

 (I got you.)

Touches, light as feathers. Your fingers tracing the sharp edges of my cheekbones. Careful, as if you’re scared of breaking me. Stupid. I'm already broken, have been for so long. If anything, your touches put me back together. Like a puzzle.

Too many pieces, you’d need a lifetime to complete me.

(We don’t have a lifetime, because I don’t.)

Maybe you’re scared of hurting yourself. I’m scared of hurting you, but I still do. All the time. You’re hurting when you’re reading this, I know you are. It’s both the best and the worst thing I've ever done to you.

I wonder if you saw me leave. I hope you didn’t. The last time you see me breathing has to be when I say I love you.

(That’s why I'm saying it so often lately. I don’t know when the last time will be.)

Don’t forget the real me. Don’t think it was all sweetness and light. You and I both know how much we’ve both hurt each other, intentionally or not. Don’t make me into someone I wasn’t – enough people will do that already.

(Don’t romanticise the hospital, either. This place holds good memories, but it’s still a place of sickness and death. It seems forever ago when it was a place of hope. Back when that word still meant something. There’s no hope left here. Not for me.)

I don’t know if these letters will make it easier or worse for you.

Maybe both. A compromise, like life. A series of highs and lows until it evens out in a flat line. A heart that stops beating.

Like mine.

Z.

(I love you. In case those weren’t my last words to you. I love you.)

//

Liam knew he would cry. He knew the moment Zayn had given him the box of letters, now almost a month ago, and he’d seen the top one. _Open when I’m no longer here._

He didn’t know he’d cry this _much_. Hadn’t expected it to _hurt_ this much. They’d had three years to say goodbye, to slowly let go, but if anything, it’d only made it harder. Zayn had only got a bigger part of his heart, a part that felt like it had been ripped out now, like Zayn had taken it with him when he went.

Liam’s arms held Waliyah tighter as she clung to him, tried to calm her down even a little bit, but how was he supposed to when he couldn’t even control his own breathing?

It was tears and quivering lips and desperately trying to breathe, it was shaking bodies and trembling fingers and keeping each other close closer closest, it was two people united in a grief they couldn’t grasp, buried under a bone-crushing pain. It was a lot and too much and not enough, would never be enough but always more than.

//

 

**Open when you can’t sleep.**

All the nights where you were asleep, overcome by pure exhaustion, and I wasn’t, taught me three important things.

  1. You wake up when I so much as move, like you’ve developed a sixth sense that notices the temporary change in my breathing pattern, or picks up the almost inaudible sound of a sheet being crumpled by feet. Knowing that makes me feel secure. (Or rather, made. It’s strange, writing about yourself when you’re not going to be around to see you read this. I wonder how it feels for you, now, talking about me in past tense. How long it’ll take you to get used to it.)
  2. Thoughts get louder when it’s silent. There’s a lot of screaming in my head at night, and it intensifies when I look at you, because there are so many things I have yet to tell you, have yet to write down, so many parts of your body I want to touch over and over again until all of my senses have memorised all of you, every single freckle, bump, scar, all of your golden skin, your hair after a shower, after sleeping, after walking in the sun so it smells like rays of light and happiness. I could have all the time in the world, but it’d never be enough. I always want more of you, discover things I hadn’t noticed the previous thousand times. There’s this theory that time is slowly disappearing from our universe – I don’t understand how that works, but if it’s true, if time would eventually just stop, it might almost be enough. (Almost.)
  3. Just like stars are brightest when it’s cold, people are strongest when it’s hopeless. You were so strong. So much stronger than I could have ever asked you to be.



Z.

(It’s okay to be weak, too.)

//

If anything, the letter only made it harder for Liam to go to bed. It wasn’t really like he _couldn’t_ sleep (he knew he would be able to, if he really wanted to; he knew his body was running low on adrenaline and eventually he’d simply pass out due to exhaustion), but he didn’t _want_ to. He didn’t want to wake up the next morning and realise that it was not a dream, that Zayn was really gone. He didn’t want to wake up thinking everything was fine, only to be hit by the truth seconds later. He just didn’t want to wake up. (Didn’t want to go to sleep in the first place.)

It felt weird, being in Zayn’s childhood room without him. Liam and Zayn had spent countless nights sleeping here, sometimes sharing the bed that had got too small to fit both of them when they were around twelve, but they kept sleeping in it, curled up into each other, for years after. The last time had been on Boxing Day, when they’d visited Zayn’s family and stayed the night before driving back to their own flat in Leeds. Liam remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was one of the last they’d spent sleeping as close to each other as possible. Not long after, Zayn had ended up in the hospital and hadn’t left it anymore.

After what felt like minutes, but was probably a good couple of hours, the bedroom door opened, revealing Zayn’s youngest sister Safaa, tears rolling down her cheeks. She just stood there, as if Liam had to give her permission to come in, or maybe Zayn’s undeniable presence in the room was too much for her to handle. Liam cocked his head, signalling it was okay, and she walked in, climbing on his lap.

By the time it was morning, Liam had one of Zayn’s sisters in each of his arms, sound asleep just like he was. At least they had each other.

//

 

**Open when it’s my funeral.**

This is the hardest one to write. I don’t know how to make this any easier for you, because I’m so, so scared myself. I’m not scared of dying, I’m not scared of not existing anymore, I’m scared to be buried and forgotten.

When you ask people what they want to achieve in life, they will always begin with superficial things, like finding the love of their life, getting rich, travelling. And then when you ask what they _really_ want to achieve, they all say: “to make a difference in someone’s life”.

I don’t want to die if I haven’t made someone’s life worth living. That’s what I’m scared of. That despite everything, you deserved more.

(You do, that’s the thing. You don’t deserve the pain I put you through, don’t deserve the sleepless nights and the tears in the morning, don’t deserve to deal with even half of this shit. You deserve the world and I can’t even give you a home.)

I would give my life for you to not go through this. But that’s the problem here, isn’t it?

Z.

//

Funerals were for the living, Liam decided after watching almost-strangers speak loving words to a boy that wasn’t here to listen anymore. Funerals were for the people who felt guilty, for the people who had turned their head when he had been screaming for help.

Liam mentally punched every single person who mentioned how they would remember Zayn like he had been before he got ill. Obviously they would – it’d be rather hard to remember him ill if none of them ever visited, or even called. It’d be hard to remember something you never saw.

(It’s hard to forget what you saw too often.)

He felt dead inside and funerals were for the living.

//

 

**Open when you’ve gone back to uni.**

I was in class, and the professor told us: “Art is about finding yourself. It’s about creating pieces that show fragments of your soul, show why your heart is beating. Colours, textures, materials – they represent you, more than you think. Art shows you in your most vulnerable moments, when you’re breaking down the walls and putting your feelings out there, for the whole world to see, but only to be understood by so few. You are not as mysterious as you might wish.

“Art is an ever-continuing love story between the artist and the public. They can read you like a book, over and over again, crease your papers, fold your corners, break your back, until they know you by heart. You are an open book, hidden in plain sight. Hidden with everything you are on display.

“Art is the piece of your soul that you put into your work, as if it were a relic. It’s the way you leave behind a tangible memory for generations of people who will only get to know you through your works of art.

“Art is about finding yourself, by letting others find you.”

You found me.

                                            Z.

//

Nothing could’ve prepared Liam for his first day back on the campus.

Everything reminded him of Zayn – the big oak they’d spent countless sunny days under, the small cafeteria where Zayn would sketch the people around them while they had lunch, the football field where Liam could still see Zayn sitting on the bleachers, the little doodle left on one of the benches, the library where they’d spent equal amounts of time studying as well as talking in hushed whispers (and sometimes kissing, too).

Liam had never been gladder to have a friend like Louis, who would distract him with stupid jokes and pinch his knee (hard) whenever he zoned out _too_ much, while paying attention in class so Liam could copy his notes later (something which proved his love, because it was usually the other way around – Liam hanging onto the professor’s every word while Louis messed around).

All in all, university was tougher than it had ever been, but Liam managed. He felt like he owed that to Zayn – if only one of them had a future, he’d make it count for two.

//

 

**Open when someone says boys don’t cry.**

One of my earliest memories is seeing you cry. (That sounds sad.) (It’s not a sad story, promise.)

I was almost four (three and a half, really, but mum claims I started telling people I was “almost four” two days after my third birthday) and you were almost three, and we were playing in the little plastic house (we were so domestic at such a young age – you’d make us pool water tea while I baked sand cakes).

I told you to eat the sand cake; when you refused I pushed you and you stumbled backwards, falling and hitting your head on the corner of the little table. You immediately started crying – because you were physically hurt or because you were shocked that I pushed you, I don’t know. (Both, I think.)

My mum gave you a bandage around your head even though you weren’t bleeding, and you got two cookies (you gave me one) and later that afternoon when it was raining outside, we cuddled in front of the television. And you told me we’d be _best, best friends for always_ and I told you I was sorry for making you cry and you said it was okay because you knew I didn’t mean it and you knew I’d always be there to make up for it.

So. I don’t really know what the moral of this story is. I guess what I wanted to say is that it’s okay to cry and anyone who tells you it’s not is just not able to love something enough to cry about it.

(This is the worst letter I’ve ever written. I might rip this to pieces and start all over again, but I don’t know how much time I’ve got left. It’ll have to do for now.)

Z.

//

If anything, it had been Liam’s favourite letter so far. He read it twice immediately after opening the envelope, and then again when he went to bed. He wasn’t sure what it meant when he found a picture from that very day (both of them in the sandpit, matching wide grins and not a care in the world) hidden under an old sketch book, but it made him think maybe there was more between heaven and earth, life and death, than he’d always believed.

//

 

**Open when you’ve said my name again.**

It will get easier. One day it will no longer feel like my name is stuck in your throat and you’ll be able to breath.

Z.

//

He hadn’t meant to say it, had planned to say ‘he’ like he had done for the past three weeks, because the four letters that formed his name somehow never made it past his tongue. It had slipped, somehow. Rolled of his tongue as easily as it had done ever since he learned how to talk. He hadn’t even noticed what he said until he saw Harry staring at him, mouth ajar as if he had been about to say something but the words died on his tongue. He caught himself pretty quickly and the conversation started flowing again as if nothing happened, but Liam wasn’t fully there with his mind. He wondered if saying Zayn’s name was a good thing, if it meant he was slowly healing, or if it was too soon to be getting over it. Could you get over a twenty-one-year-old friendship (nearly two-year relationship) in just three weeks?

(If only Liam had known this was just the beginning of his grief.)

(It happened again when he was talking to Louis later in the evening. He reacted the same way Harry had – but when did those two not mirror each other?)

//

 

**Open when the stars are bright.**

I never told you why I suddenly got so interested in stars and constellations and the universe, but I’m pretty sure you figured out it had something to do with me dying. (Sorry. I know you don’t like when I’m blunt like that.)

To be quite honest, I’m not sure I can even explain it. It’s just – one night I was staring at the night sky (because that’s what you do when you have a limited amount of time left, you try not to fall asleep and waste time) and I saw all these stars. And I remembered learning about the brightest northern one of all (Arcturus) in primary school, and that it’s been around for half a million years (could be a million, too, you know numbers aren’t my thing). That’s pretty insane. Five hundred thousand years, that’s more or less since the Homo Sapiens started to exist. We’re seeing the same star as our ancestors. You’re seeing the same star that I saw.

It’s comforting to think that no matter how much our lives get shaken up, the stars don’t fade. The world doesn’t stop spinning, the sun doesn’t stop shining. The universe doesn’t miss anyone.

Z.

//

No, the universe doesn’t miss anyone, but Liam did. _God_ , did he miss Zayn. _His_ world had stopped spinning, _his_ sun was gone, buried five feet deep in the dark.

It was Niall who found him the next day, sat next to the dorm’s front door, clothes slightly damp from the dew that had settled in the grass. He went back inside without a word, returning minutes later with two cups of tea, handing one to Liam before he sat down next to him. Niall didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Liam, and Liam meant to say thank you, he really did, but the words didn’t make it past the back of his tongue. He only managed a weak smile when Niall stood up and offered his hand, following the blond boy back into the house. They weren’t friends, not really, just enough to greet each other in the kitchen or have a quick chat about last night’s football game, but Niall had just handled Liam better than some of his actual friends did.

Liam fell asleep in his room thinking he wouldn’t have minded if Niall had asked a million questions. He’d answer them.

//

 

**Open when you’ve gone a day without crying.**

Every tear you cry for me should be followed by a memory that makes you smile. (And every memory that makes you smile should be followed by another one, and another one, and another one, until your heart is whole again.)

(Fuck, I’m so in love with you.)

Z.

//

He didn’t even realise until he woke up with a start in the middle of the night, heart beating erratically in his chest as if it were trying to escape. He expected his throat to be choked up and his cheeks to be wet with tears, but there was nothing.

Harry’s stupid eggplant-shaped clock told him it was nearly three in the morning and Liam sighed, contemplating getting up to make himself a cup of tea since he knew he wouldn’t immediately fall back asleep.

The boy behind him stirred slightly and pulled him closer. “’s alright, Li, c’mere,” Louis mumbled in his neck. Without thinking about it, Liam let himself relax against the smaller boy again, causing Harry (who was sleeping on his other side) to turn around in his sleep, burying his face against Liam’s chest. Liam snuck one of his hands in Harry’s hair, scratching his scalp and twisting the curls around his fingers, his other hand finding the one Louis had thrown over his waist to hold him close.

Sleep didn’t come back to him and he felt like a zombie by the time Harry woke up again, several hours later, but for the first time in a very, very long time, his pillow wasn’t soaked with tears, and that was something.

(He did cry when he got back to his own room and saw Zayn’s favourite bird outside his window, and then again when he noticed he’d accidentally washed his favourite sweater of Zayn’s (the one that smelled like Christmas memories), but he’d made it through the night, so he’d make it through everything else, too. Eventually.)

//

 

**Open when it’s too much.**

I hate knowing I’m going to hurt you even more than I’ve already done. I hate knowing I won’t be there to dry your tears, tell you it’s going to be okay, hold you until you can breathe again. I hate knowing you’ll hurt when my pain is gone.

The hardest part about dying is leaving the living behind and I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry I’m not strong enough to keep fighting. I love you. So, so much. Couldn’t stop even if I tried.

You’re everything to me. I’m so in love with you. Wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Propose on Christmas Eve and get married in the summer. Buy a little house with a garden, get a dog, adopt a baby. (Flynn for a boy, Ella for a girl.) Spend Saturday nights with Harry and Louis and their fifteen children. Have date nights every Friday like every other couple, go to the supermarket and bicker about the cereal on Saturday, cook dinner together on Sunday. Send each other texts with nothing but hearts or little love you’s during work.

I wanted it all with you. So in love with you, even now, even when I know it’d be so much easier to let you go if I wasn’t.

Z.

//

Sometimes Liam wished Louis wasn’t such a little criminal who knew how to pick the shitty dorm locks. Right now was one of those times. (Seriously, why was he friends with someone who didn’t listen to his choked “go away” and instead forced the door open within the next minute?)

“Oh, babe,” Louis whispered as he laid down next to him, placing a soft hand between his shoulder blades. The touch was warm, almost burning, a comforting feeling when the rest of his body felt so cold. “Love, can you get your face out from under that pillow please? I’d like to see you, yeah?”

When Liam didn’t react, Louis gently lifted the pillow himself, revealing Liam’s tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “Hey,” he mumbled, “not a good day, huh?” He rubbed gentle circles on his back with one hand, while wiping away some tears with his other. “D’you need a talk or a cuddle, love?”

He kept drawing gentle circles on Liam’s back while Liam’s breathing started to synchronise with Louis’ calm one. Liam pressed his face in Louis’ neck, hot tears dripping on his shirt. It always went like this – Louis would find Liam crying and hug him close while Liam cried on his shoulder, sometimes for hours on an end.

“Talk or cuddle?” Louis repeated softly, pressing a kiss in Liam’s hair. “Tea?” That was Louis’ ultimate solution to everything, and even though Liam used to laugh at Louis’ addiction to hot, leafy water, he had learned that tea did indeed make everything slightly better.

In the last couple of months, he’d often sat next to a sleeping Zayn with a hot cup of mint tea between his hands, watching the slow rise and fall of the other boy’s chest. Even now the taste of mint reminded him of those stolen moments, when everything would be peaceful for a while, almost normal. He didn’t drink mint tea that much anymore, the memories a bit too painful still, but Louis’d made him a countless amount of Yorkshire tea in the last six weeks and he’d grown to associate the taste with Louis and safety and warmth.

“Cuddle. You talk,” Liam mumbled after a long silence. “And tea?”

“Got it. Don’t wanna let you go now, though, so gonna have to get some peasant – Horan!” Louis called as the blond boy passed Liam’s open door. “Can you fix me a cuppa please? Thanks.”

Niall laughed. “Hi, Niall, nice to see you again, sorry for puking on you last weekend, how are you? I’m good, Louis, thanks for asking, do you want some tea?” he yelled over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I didn’t puke on you, you wanker!” Louis yelled back before focusing on Liam again. “Sorry, love,” he said in a much softer tone. “Had to defend myself there, can’t have Horan spreading lies about me, can we? You know I’m an actual angel – Zayn would confirm.”

They both smiled a little, fully knowing that Louis would never be more of a little shit than when he was with Zayn. There was the time Louis had spent half an hour drawing dicks between the tattoos on Zayn’s right arm, and hearts on his other, there was the time he filled an empty milk carton with goat milk before putting it in their fridge again, and the time he stole one of each pair of Zayn’s socks.

“Speaking of – Harry’s cross with me today ‘cause I switched the sugar for salt. Ruined both his tea and his omelette this morning. He told me I also ruined his life the day we met, but you and I know young Harold would be lost if he went a week without me, don’t we? Should really get less co-dependent, that one, people might think we’re married.”

Liam hid his smile against Louis’ shoulder, tears dried up now and eyes stinging. Louis could be as sarcastic as he wanted, he’d never be able to hide the fondness in his voice when he was talking about his boy.

“Mum literally asked me the other day when she could expect the wedding invitation – wasn’t even joking, can you believe it? As if I’d go down on my knee for Harry. He’s the ones who’s used to being on his knees, anyway, should use that –”

“Tea delivery!” Niall interrupted him, walking into the room. “Anything else, your majesty?” Liam looked over Louis’ shoulder just in time to see Niall doing some kind of weird bow, ear splitting grin on his face.

“Now that you’re asking…” Louis started, then broke off his sentence laughing. “No, we’re good, thanks Niall.”

“Liam?”

Liam shook his head. “’m fine.” His voice was scratchy, like he hadn’t talked in days.

Niall looked a bit unsure, smile fading, but nodded and left anyway.

Several hours later, the clock nearing midnight, Louis left as well, pressing a kiss to his temple and tucking him in. Liam had fallen right back into a dreamless sleep, waking up a few hours later with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t the first time – in the first month after Zayn’s death, it had woken him up more than once, this feeling that _something_ wasn’t quite right. Every time, it took his brain some time to remember that Zayn wasn’t sleeping next to him, _why_ Zayn wasn’t sleeping next to him, and then the uneasy feeling changed into raw hurt.

Apparently Liam wasn’t the only one with a messed up biorhythm, because the light of his nightlamp had Niall sticking his head around the doorframe (Liam made a mental note – again – to chew Louis out for never closing the goddamn door). “Liam?”

“Hm?” Liam hummed.

The other boy was silent for a bit, simply looking at him. “It’s six in the morning.”

Liam nodded. He knew. He’d seen the numbers change every minute since five o’clock precise.

“Are you… like, okay?”

“Fine.” The word came out sounding harsher than Liam’d intended, but he was just so tired of not being able to sleep even though he was exhausted.

“I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, yeah? If Lou isn’t here.”

Liam gave him a little smile, but it disappeared quickly. “Thanks.”

“Any time. D’you want me to close the door?”

“Please,” Liam yawned.

“Get some sleep,” Niall said softly, gently, before letting the door click shut.

(Of course he didn’t fall back asleep. When Niall walked into the kitchen at seven, freshly showered and wearing only a pair of joggers, Liam was halfway through his bowl of cereal. Liam was glad Niall wasn’t the kind of person to pry. He didn’t feel like talking.)

//

 

**Open when you’re sorting through my stuff.**

Who needs to get what:

  * mum and dad: the blue sketchbook
  * Doniya: the dreamcatcher (it used to be hers, before. I want her to have it back.)
  * Waliyah: the polaroid pictures from last Christmas (but keep the one where we’re asleep on the sofa and they put tinsel all over us, that’s yours)
  * Safaa: the teddy bear and the flower crown Louis got me
  * Louis: the graffiti mugs and the Spiderman beanie
  * Harry: the record player (and any albums he wants to have) and his tattoo design (if you can find it – it’s a loose paper in my black sketch book, I think. It’s not finished, but he’s got worse tattoos on his body already, so. (Don’t tell him I wrote that))
  * you: anything you want



Do whatever you want with the rest of my stuff – throw it out, donate it, keep it all, it doesn’t matter. Not like I will miss it.

(I miss you.)

Z.

//

The plan was to do it alone. One afternoon, go through all of the stuff, find the things he needed to give to other people and reorganise the things he wanted to keep.

After half an hour, he broke down. Another fifteen minutes later, Niall came knocking on his door.

“Liam? Are you okay? It sounds like you’re destroying your whole room.”

When Liam didn’t reply, Niall apparently deemed it acceptable to come in.

“Hey.”

Liam swallowed. “Hi.” His voice sounded wrecked, throat hurting from crying. He didn’t look up from the sweater he was clutching in his hands, the red fabric darker where his tears landed.

Niall picked up a graphic novel laying on the ground next to Liam, flipping through the pages. “Yours?”

“Zayn’s. His favourite.”

A silence that stretched out for a second too long. “Sorry. Do you want me to go?” Niall asked, uncertainty lacing his words.

Liam shrugged. Niall stayed. Two hours passed as Liam let all of Zayn’s belongings go through his hands, dividing them into neat categories (give away, keep, donate to charity, throw out). Niall simply sat next to him, folding the items of clothing again after Liam’d crumpled them, making piles of sketch books and rubbing Liam’s back when he cried over yet another memory.

In a strange way, it was comforting, sitting in a quiet room with someone who had never really known Zayn, who didn’t quite know just how much Liam was hurting. Niall didn’t ask him to talk about it, though Liam could read the questions in his eyes. He didn’t answer them, didn’t know how to.

When Harry came over later that afternoon, he found the two boys drinking tea amidst all of Zayn’s stuff as if it were a shrine. He sat down behind Liam, circling his arms around the other boy’s waist and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Look at you doing all this. Don’t know how you do it,” Harry said softly.

Liam shrugged. “Trying not to think about what I’m doing. ‘s harder when I think of him.”

Harry hummed approvingly and tightened his grip. “Strongest person I know,” he whispered against Liam’s shoulder.

It didn’t mean anything to Liam, not when he felt like the slightest breeze could rip him apart like a tree losing its leaves in winter. Not when he had to always leave a light on in the middle of the night because for the last four months, darkness had meant being afraid of Zayn slipping away without anyone noticing. He wasn’t strong when he put Louis under speed dial because sometimes he couldn’t even search for his name in his phone, tears blurring his sight and fingers trembling. He wasn’t strong when his mum called to check in on him every Friday night, just to make sure _he_ was still alive. He wasn’t strong when he could only feel a gaping hole where his heart had once been, when he needed to be held because that was the only way he didn’t feel like he was falling apart.

Liam wasn’t strong. He was lost and scared and hurting and he _wasn’t_ strong.

//

 

**Open when you’ve laughed till you cried without feeling guilty.**

Your carefree laugh is my favourite sound. It reminds me of summertime sleepovers, building snowmen in the garden, rolling down the hills, golden sunsets, electric touches and racing hearts, cherry coloured lips, sparkling eyes and the taste of freedom in the back of our throats. Nothing but us and the buzz of a life filled with promises.

I’m glad you’re happy. The world deserves to be lit up with your smile.

Z.

//

Of course it was Louis who genuinely made Liam laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. Louis wasn’t even doing anything, not really, he was just filling a pot with water to cook some pasta, but for some reason he stumbled over his own feet and got water all down the front of his short. That’s what put a small smile on Liam’s face.

They talked about their French class for a little while, practicing some basic French while waiting for the water to boil, until Liam noticed – after what must have been at least twenty minutes – that Louis had forgotten to switch the stove on. Louis swore in his typical Yorkshire-French accent (“Merde! Toujours!”) and Liam hid his growing smile behind his hand as Louis continued angrily mumbling to himself in English.

Five minutes later found Louis with his head in the cupboard under the sink, trying to find the colander that was supposed to be hiding there somewhere. The loud beeping of his phone’s timer made him hit his head against the cupboard, leading to a frustrated scream and yet another stream of curse words. “Don’t laugh,” he told Liam sternly, but there was no real heat behind his words, biting his lip to keep from laughing himself.

The grand finale was Harry who came in just as Louis stood on his tiptoes on a chair to reach a bowl in the highest cabinet, going unnoticed by his boyfriend. Said boyfriend nearly fell to his death when Harry hugged him around the waist, causing Louis to lose his balance, only to be saved by his almost-killer. It was his look of utter frustration that sent Liam over the edge, doubling over in laughter as Louis frowned and stomped his foot like a child. “It’s not _funny_ , Liam, _stop_ laughing at me! I made you food, you ungrateful dick!”

(Liam’s laugh died on his lips when Harry kissed Louis silent. Neither boy noticed he was suddenly very interested in a loose thread on his jumper, seeing Louis pinch Harry’s hip gently from the corner of his eye.)

//

 

**Open when you thought you saw me on the street.**

I’ll always be with you, every step of the way. I won’t leave you.

Z.

//

There was a boy. Hair black like the sky on a starless night, eyes a warm brown colour, toffee mixed with coffee and some chestnut.

A faded red beanie on his head, a faded tattoo on his hand and the sharp line of his jaw, softened by stubble.

He smiled warmly when he noticed Liam looking. Liam averted his eyes. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t.

Stupid.

_I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you._

//

 

**Open when you’ve visited my grave.**

Do you remember when we analysed all of these poems in class, meaning and style and all of that stuff? Do you remember the one by Mary Elizabeth Frye, that nearly had Mrs Clarks in tears every time she read it? I’ve been reading it a lot, lately. Makes me feel calmer about dying. Maybe it’ll help you, too.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,  
I am not there, I do not sleep.  
I am in a thousand winds that blow,  
I am the softly falling snow.  
I am the gentle showers of rain,  
I am the fields of ripening grain.  
I am in the morning hush,  
I am in the graceful rush  
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,  
I am the starshine of the night.  
I am in the flowers that bloom,  
I am in a quiet room.  
I am in the birds that sing,  
I am in each lovely thing.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry,  
I am not there. I did not die.

Z.

//

Seeing his name on the tomb stone made it real. Up till then, Liam could tell himself it wasn’t really his boyfriend lying there, buried in the cold, wet ground, nothing but flowers to keep him company. The name made it real.

_Zayn J. Malik_

_12-01-1993 – 05-02-2015_

_Always loving, always loved._

Liam hadn’t been home since the funeral, hadn’t had the chance, but staring at the words carved into the grey stone, he realised it didn’t feel like home anymore. Something – _someone_ – was missing and it made all the difference in the world.

Home wasn’t the house he grew up in, nor the streets he used to roam or the people he’d known all his life. Home had been the safety of Zayn’s arms around him, the whispered conversations at night and the way their hands fit together.

Home wasn’t Zayn, but everything he left behind.

(Liam was a long way from home.)

//

 

**Open when you’re falling for someone.**

It’s okay. Don’t feel like you owe me anything. We weren’t married (hopefully one day we would’ve been), and even if we were, I just want you happy. If he makes you happy, it’s okay.

You deserve to be loved and to be in love.

Love you always.

Z.

//

It had happened so slowly Liam didn’t actually notice until he had well and truly fallen. For Niall.  Which hadn’t been the plan, _at all_.

After finding Liam in tears that day he was sorting out Zayn’s stuff, Niall had taken it upon himself to check in on Liam at least once a day, usually in the early evening. The first couple of times, Liam had been annoyed, because he was completely capable of looking after himself, _thank you very much_. A week into the daily check-ups, however, he found himself telling Niall about Zayn for the first time, both boys lying on Liam’s bed, staring at the ceiling, arms touching. He knew Louis had told Niall the very basics, but Liam wanted to tell Niall himself, wanted him to know just how special Zayn had been to him.

“He was my best friend, you know, since we were tiny babies,” Liam said, watching dust particles dance in the air. “We did everything together. His parent treated me like a son and my sisters saw him like a second brother. We couldn’t go a day without each other – family holidays were always tricky. When we were ten our parents decided it would simply be cheaper to take the both of us than pay for our phone bills.” He smiled at the memory. “It was all so easy. He was the first person I came out to, when I was fourteen; I didn’t tell my parents till I was fifteen. A lot of people thought we were together in high school, ‘cause we were very touchy-feely and held hands sometimes, but we didn’t actually kiss until my eighteenth birthday. He never came out, never specifically said he was gay.” He paused for a second, not sure if he had the right to share this with Niall. “I asked him, one time, and he just said he was in love with me. He didn’t want to put a label on it, call himself gay or bi or pan. His parents asked, sometimes, but he’d just shrug and say it shouldn’t matter, that it didn’t define him. He was so much more relaxed about it than I was. Like, I was nervous when I came out to my parents, even though I knew they’d be okay with it. And I got upset over people calling us gay in high school. I struggled a lot more with being gay than he did. Even after we got together. Didn’t always want to hold his hand in public, didn’t like it when he kissed me with a lot of people around.” He took a shaky breath. “I regret that now. Wish I’d appreciated it more when I had it.”

Suddenly Liam felt Niall’s hand against his, interlacing their fingers, thumb stroking his skin. He looked sideways, noticing the way the setting sun made the blonde’s hair glow like fire. “I miss him,” he said softly, looking back up at the ceiling. “I’ve never known a life without him. I don’t know how to live in a world where he’s not around.”

They were quiet for a long time, sun disappearing and moon coming out to shine. Liam was on the verge of sleep when Niall untangled their hands, pressed a kiss in his hair and whispered “thanks for telling me” before pulling up the duvet and tucking Liam in.

Something changed after that evening, Niall hanging out in Liam’s room more often, lounging on Liam’s bed or playing the guitar in the window sill. Sometimes he’d steal Liam’s desk chair, claiming the boy worked too hard and needed a break from studying, before dragging them both outside to play some footie. ( _It doesn’t mean anything_ , Liam told himself, _he just really likes playing football_.)

As Niall created a place for himself in Liam’s room and Liam’s life, he never touched anything that was Zayn’s. He didn’t sit on his bed, didn’t ask about the pictures lying around the room, didn’t try to make Liam talk about it. He listened when Liam needed someone to share his thoughts with, but he never initiated anything. Liam appreciated it more than he could express.

Harry and Louis stopped texting him every minute of the day to see if he needed anything, but they did stop by more often, worried when Liam wouldn’t reply to their messages, only to find him sleeping with his head in Niall’s lap while Niall was doing coursework.

And then one night the four boys were watching a movie in Louis and Harry’s room, Liam with his back against the armrest of the couch and legs thrown over Niall’s, and he realised he’d been watching Niall rather than the movie, and _fuck_ did he want to kiss him.

He jumped up, mumbled something about not feeling well and practically ran out the door before anyone fully realised what happened.

He ignored all of their calls and messages, even locked his door so they couldn’t come in, and spent the rest of the night staring at Zayn’s letter. When he mustered up the courage to go to Niall’s the next day, he was met with three pairs of worried eyes and a rather bone crushing hug from Harry.

“Okay?” Louis asked.

“Yeah,” Liam nodded, and he meant it. He was okay, or at least as okay as he could be. He’d realised he wasn’t going to kiss Niall any time soon, might never actually kiss him, a bit too scared that another broken heart would actually kill him, but he wasn’t going to stop hanging out with him. He was too selfish to want that bit of happiness, even if it left him feeling terribly torn sometimes.

//

 

**Open when you were back at the hospital.**

Every day, doctors tell families that there is no hope left, and yet I’ve never seen a place filled with more hope than a hospital. Isn’t that beautiful?

I know you hated the cold white walls and the plastic floor and the smell of disinfectant, but do you remember how the sun would peak through the curtains at noon and how we fit right into the bed together and how you would always hear my heartbeat speed up when we kissed?

Z.

//

After the funeral, Liam swore he wouldn’t set another foot in the hospital for the next five years, but that was before he knew Niall. Niall, who played football and had twisted his ankle during training and who was now next to him in the passenger’s seat, ice pack slowly melting.

Without thinking, he gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white from the pressure, and glanced in the rear-view mirror. Both Louis and Harry had insisted on coming with and while Niall was cracking jokes with Louis, Harry’s brows furrowed as he caught Liam’s gaze. He leaned forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Slow down, Li. We’re almost there, let’s not get arrested now, yeah?”

He slowed down until he was driving the exact speed limit, turning onto the hospital’s parking lot a minute later. “I’m gonna drop you all off here, and then I’ll find you inside when I’ve parked the car.”

Louis nodded, getting out of the car as soon as it stopped and opening Niall’s door to help him stand up. Harry hesitated though, asking: “Will you be alright on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Haz, don’t worry,” Liam replied with a forced smile. The younger boy nodded, still a look of concern in his eyes, before exiting the car and closing the door.

As soon as the three boys were inside, Liam let his head fall onto the steering wheel and breathed out hard, panic settling in his stomach. Finding a spot was relatively easy and he was able to park not too far from the head entrance of the building, but it took him a full eight minutes before he felt like he wasn’t going to hyperventilate the second he got out of the car.

He walked into the hospital with a heavy heart and one too many memories in the back of his mind. He easily spotted Harry and Louis in the waiting room and when he reached them, Louis immediately moved into Harry’s lap so Liam could have his seat.

“Are they taking pictures?” God, why did his voice sound like he was going to cry? He was _fine_.

Louis nodded. “Doctor said it doesn’t seem to be broken, but they wanna check just in case. They’ll be back in a bit.”

With a sigh, Liam leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He felt so, _so_ tired. Besides him, he could hear Harry and Louis whisper to each other, but he didn’t open his eyes until Harry shook his shoulder gently and told him Niall was coming back.

“What did they say, mate?” Louis asked as soon as Niall was within hearing distance.

He shrugged, sitting down in the empty spot besides Liam. “Dunno. Doc’s gonna look at the pics now and then they’re gonna call me back in to see how bad it is.”

“Does it hurt?” Harry wanted to know.

“No, ‘s quite alright now. Like, obviously I can’t walk, but it doesn’t feel broken, you know? I can kind of move my foot still.”

“You better heal soon, mate, we desperately need you on the field,” Louis laughed.

“You tossers would be nowhere without me,” Niall agreed.

Harry tightened his grip around Louis’ waist. “Lou is a good player, too,” he pouted.

Smiling, Louis pressed a kiss in his hair. “Thank you, baby. Niall’s got a bit big-headed after that one goal he scored last month.”

“I’m a defender, I’m not supposed to score, Tommo. But if you don’t do your captain job correctly, I have to save our team the embarrassment of losing.”

Louis glared at the blonde. “I am a _great_ team captain, Horan. You better watch what you’re saying or I’ll kick you out.”

Niall opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the doctor’s voice. “Niall? We’re ready to discuss your pictures. Would your friends like to come with?”

They all nodded and followed the man to his office, Liam trailing behind. However, the second he walked through the door, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, memories of Zayn and him in a similar office being thrown at him. He turned on his heels and just ran, already at the end of the corridor before he heard Louis shout his name. People turned their heads when he ran past and he could hear footsteps behind him, so he took a sharp turn right, nearly knocking over a little girl, before spotting a sign for the bathroom.

Three corridors and two more nearly-collisions later, he threw the bathroom door open and let himself fall to his knees in a stall, heaving above the bowl. His head felt faint and his chest _hurt_ as he got rid of his lunch, tears pricking behind his eyelids.

“Liam, _fuck_ ,” Louis panted, footsteps echoing in the empty bathroom. He placed a hand in between Liam’s shoulder blades, dropping to his knees. “Babe, hey, come here.”

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around Liam’s chest, pulling him against Louis’. Liam turned so he sat sideways between Louis’ legs, hiding his face in his neck as he started sobbing.

“Come here,” Louis repeated softly. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” He rubbed a hand up and down Liam’s back as the boy shook. “Oh, Li. I’m sorry. We should have known…” he trailed off.

He kept whispering encouraging words as Liam slowly started to breathe easier, tears starting to dry up. “Try to breathe with me now, Li, there you go.”

After another minute, Liam lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “Sorry for ruining your shirt,” he mumbled, voice hoarse.

Louis rolled his eyes as he helped him up. “Don’t be daft, you don’t have to apologise for that. Let’s go see the other two, yeah?”

It was clear Harry and Niall had been waiting for a while, both boys sporting equal looks of worry and relief. There was no cast in sight, so it seemed like Niall had indeed only sprained his ankle, which he confirmed when Louis asked.

“Good, we can’t lose our second best player.”

“What do you mean second best?” Niall grumbled. “Are you seriously insinuating you’re the star player?”

“Yes, I am, young Niall,” Louis said dismissively. “Liam, give me your keys, I’ll drive us home.”

There was no use in protesting, so Liam simply took his keys out of his pocket and threw them to the other boy. Niall got shotgun again, since there was more leg space in front, and Harry joined Liam in the back.

Once they got back to the dorms, Liam felt about ready to sleep for a month, but neither of the others wanted to leave him alone, so all four of them ended up tangled together in Louis and Harry’s king bed. Liam’s head rested on Harry’s chest, Louis’ hand playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck and his feet tangled up with Niall’s.

It wasn’t the most comfortable sleeping position, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

//

 

**Open when you wish you could’ve taken my place.**

I’m glad it wasn’t you. I don’t know if I would’ve been as strong as you are. And I know you’ll be okay, and I know we’ll see each other again one day. But for now, you’ve still got a while life in front of you, so you better make sure it’s worthwhile so you can tell me all about when we meet again.

Love you millions, always.

Z.

//

Just as Liam thought he’d survived the worst, Waliyah’s birthday proved him all wrong. Barely two months after Zayn’s passing, he was still so clearly missed by his younger sisters, and Liam’s heart broke all over again every time the girls silently asked for a cuddle.

It just wasn’t _fair_. Zayn was supposed to be there for his two favourite girls’ birthdays, was supposed to tease them about boyfriends and help them through their GSCE’s.

He’d been their hero, but heroes weren’t supposed to die.

//

 

**Open when it’s storming.**

Do you remember when we watched The Notebook with Saaf, and it was raining like crazy that night, and you made me go outside with you to re-enact the kiss? I still think of that when it rains.

I used to love (still do) how you’d be so keen on keeping our relationship on the down-low and at the same time you managed to convince me to do crazy stuff like that.

You're the best thing that ever happened to me.

(Maybe I was always meant to be a storm and all the time I had with you was simply the calm in the eye, and now that I'm gone you're left to pick up the pieces.)

Z.

 

 

**Open when it’s storming (part 2).**

The most beautiful thing about storms? Everything comes back alive afterwards, even more wonderful than before. That's what's gonna happen to you, too. You're gonna get through this, and you're gonna bloom more than ever before.

Z.

//

April started with a raging storm, a soft knock on Liam’s door and a sleepless night.

“Niall?” Liam asked as he opened the door to see the blond boy with his arms curled around himself.

“Hey. D’you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

Liam didn’t – of course he didn’t. Wordlessly, he guided Niall to the bed, hesitating just a second before slipping in beside him. Niall immediately buried his face in Liam’s chest, body trembling when another thunderclap disturbed the night.

He counted six lightning strikes before Niall spoke up again. “I really don’t like thunderstorms.”

“Hm?” Liam hummed as he pulled the duvet up higher to cover the goose bumps on his arms.

“They sound too much like the front door slamming closed when my dad left.”

//

 

**Open when there’s an aching emptiness.**

Mum used to tell me, back when I was little and cried because Baloo The Labradoodle died, that our heart is like clay, and anything you lock into it is moulded and fitted right in. When they leave, all that is left is a hole shaped to their size. And over time, the clay starts to fill the gap, returning to its original state. Maybe that’s what you’re feeling. Your heart starting to heal.

Z.

//

Surviving April proved to be tougher than expected. Exams were coming closer with each passing day, and Liam really needed to get back on track with his studying if he wanted to have any chance at passing. He got distracted easily though, and he often felt like his brain just couldn’t register anything properly.

Harry recommended him to drink green tea in the morning, which _no, thank you, he’d really rather not_. It resulted in Harry refusing to serve Liam any drinks when he came over, until he tried the green tea. Eventually, Louis got so fed up with it, he tricked Liam into trying it by saying it was warm cider. (Harry did a victory dance around the room when he admitted it wasn’t too bad – a bit leafy, but not bad.)

Louis said exercise always made everything better, because of the pheromones ( _“Didn’t know you had a dictionary for breakfast, Lou” – “Fuck off, Liam”)_. He made Liam come out for a bit of football every evening, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world; Liam loved football, and he also loved Louis quite a bit, so he didn’t mind the regular workout.

Niall claimed music was medicine for the soul (a line Liam was sure he’d heard before, but he couldn’t recall who Niall had stolen it from) and kept texting him links to songs on Spotify. The songs were rather nice, a lot of calm melodies with only a guitar or piano to accompany the lyrics.

They were all simply trying to help, and Liam appreciated the thought, and it did make it a bit easier to get through the days of studying. But none of it helped to relieve the aching in his chest when he rolled into bed at night.

//

 

**Open when you kissed someone.**

Is congratulating you appropriate? I think it is, so: congrats!

Guess this means you’re moving on. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, if I’m completely honest. A bit jealous, that’s for sure, because you weren’t supposed to ever kiss any other guy again, were supposed to promise me “I do”, were supposed to grow old next to me. (I really ruined that last plan, didn’t I?)

But I’m also happy for you? That you’re in love again, that someone is in love with you. (At least, knowing you, you’re both in love. If not – don’t overthink it.) I know you got upset when I told you I’d like for you to fall in love again, but it’s true. You deserve someone that loves you unconditionally and forever, that makes you as happy as you made me.

~~I love you. So much, still.~~

Z.

//

He hadn’t intended for it to happen.

The night had started out normally. The four of them – Harry, Louis, Niall and him – had gone to the cinema to see the new Spiderman movie. Harry’d been riling up his boyfriend by fawning over all the male actors; Louis lost a bet when he was, in fact, not able to eat more popcorn than Niall (Liam wasn’t sure how he’d ever been able to think that, and Louis would’ve been sick in the cinema room if Harry hadn’t forcefully taken the popcorn out of his hands); Niall kept chatting and laughed too loudly at every innuendo; and Liam… Liam tried to ignore his friends, for the most part, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly when they were being particularly idiotic. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Somehow, eating a whole bucket full of popcorn had not yet stilled Louis’ hunger, so he stopped by a McDrive on the way home, ordering fries and hamburgers and milkshakes (for all of them) and a salad (for Harry). And then he went back and got twenty chicken nuggets which he fed to Niall one by one. To be fair, Liam wasn’t quite sure if Louis and Niall had been drinking simple cokes like Harry and he, and he got convinced they’d somehow smuggled alcohol into the movie theatre when they re-enacted the infamous _Lady and the Tramp_ spaghetti scene with a chicken nugget.

“Why am I in love with an idiot?” Harry sighed, dropping his head in Liam’s lap, feet against the car window.

 _Same_ , Liam thought, then frowned, because _what? Did he really just think that?_

“Let’s run of into the sunset together,” he suggested, raking a hand through Harry’s curls. “I heard France is especially beautiful this time of year.”

“ _I’m_ especially beautiful this time of year,” Louis said, not even bothering to spare them a glance as he took the crust of a chicken nugget and put it in Niall’s mouth.

Harry, the lovesick idiot, smiled. “You’re always beautiful.” Louis turned from where he was sitting in the driver’s seat so he could peck his lips.

Niall made a retching sound. “You two are disgusting.”

“Disgustingly cute,” Louis corrected, wiping his greasy hands on the car seat. “Let’s go, children’s bedtime was hours ago and yet you’re still up.”

Fifteen minutes later, Niall and Liam waved goodbye to their friends. Night had only just fallen, the temperature still warm enough to walk around without a jacket.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Liam asked. Niall agreed easily, and the two boys fell into an easy rhythm as they wandered over the university campus. A lot of the dorm rooms were still lit, and there were other people walking around, but to Liam, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

They found a little secluded spot underneath one of the big oaks that were littered around campus, the grass slightly wet from a rain shower a few hours earlier. A single look made clear they were both thinking the same thing, and they sat down with their legs crisscross, knees almost touching.

Niall leant back against the tree. “There’s a lot of stars tonight.”

Indeed, when Liam looked up, he could see the glittering stars shine through the holes in the foliage. He’d never been the kind of person to particularly enjoy stargazing, and he’d always found it a bit cringey when people said that someone who passed away became a star. Yet, he couldn’t help but look at the brightest one, the one Zayn had talked about in his letter. _Arcturus_. If it as true what they said, that people become stars, Zayn’s star would soon dethrone the Arcturus, shining brighter than anything, just like he’d done on earth.

“Stars shine brightest when it’s cold,” Liam mumbled. He looked at Niall. “That’s what Zayn said to me.” He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “It’s – that’s not the full sentence. _Just like stars are brightest when it’s cold, people are strongest when it’s hopeless_.”

A long silence fell over them, a soft wind rustling the tree. Liam thought he could hear a night owl somewhere, too. Did those even live in Leeds? He had no idea.

“He used to say I was so strong. That he wouldn’t be able to deal with it like that if it were the other way around. But it’s not like you have a choice when it happens. You don’t get to decide that you’re not strong. Your body just goes into survival mode. It’s just my body protecting my mind. Most of the time I don’t feel strong.”

In the distance, a car passed, blasting music.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s all a dream. That I’ll wake up one day, and see him sleeping next to me, like it should have been.”

Niall rested a hand on his knee, the touch burning hot even through his jeans. “I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. The way you’re dealing with it – you are _so_ brave, Liam.” He chewed his bottom lip. “After it happened, I saw Louis at a birthday party, but he wasn’t his loud, cheerful self, kept looking at his phone and got startled whenever someone tried to make conversation. I went up to him, asked him if he was okay, and we ended up sitting on the roof of the building talking about Zayn, and how Louis was worried about you. Said he was scared you were sliding into depression.”

Liam nodded. He’d heard Louis and Harry argue about it in whisper, when they were looking after him and thought he’d fallen asleep. _“It’s not normal, Harry!” “He’s lost his childhood love, we need to give him time, Lou.”_

“And then I saw you, a while later, and sure, you looked upset and you were obviously heartbroken, but I also remember thinking you seemed so strong. Despite everything, you still managed to function.”

“Zayn once said that he was grateful he got time to say goodbye to everyone, have a few months of mentally preparing himself for the final farewell, but I hated it. Every time I did or said something, the thought crossed my mind that it might’ve been the last time. And I freaking hated it, because I wanted to enjoy the moments we still had, but it was like there was this giant timer in the back of my head, blinking bright red and always reminding me that we didn’t get to have forever together. But I think maybe that helped me survive in this first few weeks – because I’d known I would have to.”

He swallowed away the knot in his throat. “I get jealous of Louis and Harry sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “Because they still have their happy ending.”

“Don’t think anyone can blame you for that. I get jealous of them, too,” Niall shrugged.

“You do?”

“Sometimes. I haven’t – okay, don’t, like, laugh at me, but I haven’t really had a proper relationship?” There was a slight blush on his cheeks. “I mean, I’ve kissed quite a few people, and. You know. Done other things” – the blush intensified – “but I just never really met a guy I really liked.”

 _Guy_. Liam realised with a start he hadn’t even known if Niall was into boys – and wouldn’t that have been the joke of the century? Falling in love after your boyfriend dies, only to discover your crush is one hundred percent straight?

“Never?” He didn’t mean for it to come out so questioning, like he thought Niall was weird for not having had a boyfriend yet. It was just – he had eyes, okay? Niall was bloody _fit_ , Liam couldn’t imagine he’d ever had trouble pulling. Surely one of the blokes he’d kissed must’ve caught his interest?

Niall shook his head, then paused. “Um. There’s – recently,” he corrected himself. “But I don’t – he doesn’t know.” He looked up a bit shyly, gauging Liam’s reaction. But there was something else as well, a glimmer of hope, a question in his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so young.

His hand was still on Liam’s knee, burning a hole through his jeans, and suddenly it was crystal clear to Liam. Niall was talking about _him_. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Oh, fuck.”

The look on Niall’s face changed and he retracted his hand quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No. No, it’s fine, I just…” His mind was racing with thoughts, and suddenly all the little things he hadn’t paid attention to before made complete sense. How Niall would touch him whenever he got the chance, even if it was just their arms brushing, or the way he would shoot Liam a small, encouraging smile when their eyes met over the breakfast table, how he was always up for a chat in the middle of the night, when Liam felt like he would never sleep again.

Liam opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t really thought about… like, a new relationship, or whatever. It’s been three months since… You know.” His eyebrows furrowed. “And it just. It doesn’t feel like three months. Some days it feels like it happened yesterday, and some days it feels like a lifetime ago. I still miss him like crazy, there are days I can barely remember how to breathe with how much I’m hurting, and there’s also days when I can smile and laugh and pretend everything is fine. But it’s not fine. And I feel so, so guilty for moving on, for allowing myself to have fun.” He closed his eyes. “I feel so guilty for liking you more than I should.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced up at Niall. The blond boy was staring at him, chewing his bottom lip.

“You know I’m not going to trick you into anything, right?” he said after a long, silent minute. “I don’t expect anything of you, I know you’re still dealing with... With your loss.”

Liam shook his head. “No, I know. I know you wouldn’t.” _I wouldn’t mind_ , he thought. A laugh bubbled up in his throat. “I feel like we’re teenagers,” he told Niall. “Shouldn’t we be better at this feelings talk?”

“Probably,” Niall agreed with a smile.

“Harry’s good at it. Maybe he should be our therapist.”

“Are you saying we need relationship therapy?”

Liam rolled his eyes fondly. “We’re not even in a relationship yet.”

There was a pause. “Yet?” Niall echoed.

“Um.” Liam shrugged, uncertain. “Okay, look. Here’s the thing. What happened with Zayn – it fucked me up. Like, we were your cliché love story. Childhood friends to teenage lovers, discovered their sexualities together, were each other’s first everything, families loved the other like their own child. He was my soulmate. Simple.” Liam rubbed his eyes, refusing to cry, but he couldn’t stop a few stray tears. “Long story short: he was my soulmate, and for some reason the universe decided he needed to _die_ , and now I don’t know if I will ever be able to love anybody like I loved him.”

“Nobody expects you to,” Niall said quietly.

“But it wouldn’t be _fair_. You can’t expect someone to be okay with being the second choice.”

“That’s not how it would be, Li. You’re _never_ gonna love two people the same way. You can’t rank the people you love, because you can’t compare them. It’s not gonna be the same relationship.”

Liam sighed. “It wouldn’t be fair,” he repeated. “I still love him so much, you have _no_ idea.”

“I don’t”, Niall agreed. “And I can see that you still care for him so much, that you still want to protect him. But in the end it’s your life. And he’s had a major impact on who you are as a person, but you can’t let the first twenty-one years of your life decide the next eighty. You can’t stop living just because he did.”

 _You can’t stop living just because he did._ The words resonated in Liam’s mind. He tried to come up with a comeback, a reason why it wasn’t as simple as Niall made it out to be, but he couldn’t think of any.

Suddenly a fragment of one of Zayn’s letters popped up in his head. _You deserve to be loved and to be in love_. _I just want you happy._

_I just want you happy._

_Happy._

Before he could change his mind or overthink the situation, Liam leant forward slightly, his hand cupping the back of Niall’s neck. Their lips touched, soft and gentle, barely even a kiss, Liam leaning his forehead against Niall’s for a second before diving back in, heated and urgent.

Where kissing Zayn had always felt like electric touches and fireworks going off in his chest, kissing Niall felt like a wildfire, slow and burning, lighting every nerve in his body.

Niall’s hand cupped his jaw, thumb wiping away the last tears, as Liam clutched the hair at the end of his neck, desperate for something to ground him. Their lips fit together like they were two parts of a whole, Niall’s so impossibly soft against Liam’s.

When Niall pulled back ever so slightly, Liam let out a small whine, hiding his face in the boy’s neck. Niall chuckled quietly, raking a hand through his hair.

“Let’s go back, yeah? My butt’s getting cold.”

A sigh escaped Liam’s lips. “I can’t believe you just ruined such a romantic night with a comment like that.”

“Get used to it,” Niall told him with a bright smile, offering the other boy a hand.

The walk back to their dorm was silent, only squeezing each other’s hand from time to time as to convince themselves it was real.

As they reached the door, Liam softly pulled Niall to a stop, putting a hand on his waist, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Hey.” He shot a small smile at him, biting his lip. “D’you mind sleeping in your own room tonight? I need some space to think.”

A worried frown appeared between Niall’s eyebrows. “Are you – was tonight not okay?”

Liam pressed his thumb against the frown, smoothing it out. “It was. I promise. But I told you, it’s complicated. You’re dealing with damaged goods here, it’s not gonna be a smooth journey.”

“You’re not damaged,” Niall mumbled, instinctively pulling Liam closer.

“I’m not whole either,” Liam told him. “Give me some time, yeah? I will come find you tomorrow when my thoughts are clearer.”

“I don’t want you to be alone if you’re gonna be sad,” Niall confessed.

“I can deal with it.”

“I don’t want you to deal with it on your own.”

“Niall.”

“Liam.”

“Please. Don’t be difficult about this,” Liam pleaded.

“Fine. But if you don’t want to see me tonight, promise me you’ll call Louis or Harry if you’re really struggling.”

“Promise.” Liam pressed a kiss to his lips. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna change my mind about – us. Just need some time.”

He looked into the baby blues of the boy in front of him, seeing the reflection of the stars in his eyes. He wondered if he could see Zayn in Niall’s eyes.

//

 

**Open when you feel like nobody will ever make you feel like I did.**

Don’t overthink it. They deserve a chance.

Z.

//

“You said you weren’t going to change your mind.”

Liam pulled his knees up, arms wrapping around them as he looked at the boy standing in the middle of the room.

“Wasn’t thinking last night,” he mumbled. His heart clenched when Niall’s shoulders sagged, a little _oh_ escaping his mouth.

“You’re not being fair,” Niall said quietly. “You can’t just shut me out whenever you feel upset.”

“’m not shutting you out,” Liam said absentmindedly, wondering if he’d be able to trick Harry into cooking him dinner. He could do with some homemade lasagne, and Harry made it best (except for the times he added courgette to it – honestly, what psycho had invented courgette?).

“Bullshit.” Niall moved to sit down on the floor, back against the door. “Tell me what you’re thinking then, if you’re not shutting me out.”

A shrug. Liam’s phone lit up, and he could see a new message from the corner of his eye. Probably just Louis anyway; they’d been texting back and forth about an assignment for their French class, before Niall’d knocked on his door and everything had gone downhill.

“Is it something I did?” Niall asked softly.

Liam shook his head, locking eyes with Niall for a second, searching his face to see if he actually thought he could be blamed for _anything_.

“Then what is it? Talk to me, please, Li.”

“Just don’t think it’s fair for you to settle for me when you could get so much better,” Liam said, so quietly he wasn’t sure Niall had heard him.

A broken sounding _Liam_ made him look up again. “You’re not less. God, Liam, you can’t actually believe that I deserve better.” Niall shook his head in disbelief, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re the _best_ thing to happen to me. Fuck, you have no idea. You have _no_ idea,” he repeated.

The silence stretched out between them, leaving both boys to their own thoughts.

Somehow, Liam knew that he had to take the first step now. He knew Niall would leave him alone if he asked him to, but he also knew he wouldn’t come back. And he couldn’t stand losing Niall, despite all his fears and doubts.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision when he moved off the bed and knelt next to Niall, hands hesitantly taking his’.

“I told you I’m damaged goods.” He shook his head when Niall opened his mouth to protest. “You know it’s true. I wish I could promise you nothing but smooth sailing and sunshine, but we both know I can’t. This is not – I don’t think it’s fair to pull you into the mess that is my life.”

Niall stroked his thumb over Liam’s wrist, tracing the vein. “Don’t think there is a way back for me. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve been a little co-dependent lately,” he smiled softly.

 Liam sighed. “I don’t think it’s fair to pull you in further. I don’t want to treat you like a rebound. You deserve to have a carefree uni experience, you’re not getting that with me.”

“What about what you deserve?” Niall threw back. “Don’t you deserve some happiness in the form of an attractive Irish lad?”

A laugh bubbled up from Liam’s throat. “Attractive, eh? You should introduce me, I only know an Irish nuisance that thinks the four hairs on his chest make him a man.”

“Oi!” Niall shoved his shoulder, no heat behind his words. “Seriously, Li. Stop talking about don’ts, talk about do’s.”

Their eyes met, and Liam could see how _genuine_ Niall was. Could see how much this boy with his cotton candy heart, so soft and light and fragile, cared, how much truth was wrapped in each of his words.

Later, Liam would remember all the perfectly reasonable arguments he had wanted to say, all the things he wanted to protect Niall from, all the stories Niall needed to know.

Now, all he could do was press his lips against Niall’s, tasting sunshine on his tongue and mapping the shape of his jawbone as his fingers travelled over his body.

Later, he’d fall asleep to the sound of Niall strumming his guitar, humming lyrics to a song Liam couldn’t recognise. In the morning, there’d be a sleeping boy next to him and a note on the ground saying _the cracks leave in the light_.

//

 

**Open when you had a boys’ night in.**

I’m sorry this is not a heartfelt love letter, I just wanted to take this opportunity to remind you of that time we convinced Louis to let Harry wax his legs and the neighbours called the police because they thought he was being murdered.

I wish I could join you. I miss you all.

Z.

//

Despite growing up with two older sisters, Liam had not had his nails painted until he’d met Harry nearly three years ago. The curly-haired boy painted his nails at least once a week, often luring Louis in as well, and on the odd occasion, Liam and Zayn too.

Over time, Liam learned that Harry always started painting his nails during serious conversations, an excuse not to look the other person in the eyes. It always tricked Liam into thinking Harry wasn’t listening that closely, that he was distracted and possibly not even paying attention to what was being said.

He was proven wrong once again when, in the midst of his conversation with Louis about his confused feelings, Harry suddenly piped in: “You know how I knew you were getting feelings for him?”

“No?”

“Your eyes gained back their sparkle.”

Louis made a fake retching sound, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a sap, Styles. Disgusting.”

“Yet you love me,” Harry shrugged, tongue peeking out as he applied nail polish to his little finger.

Before Harry could register what happened, Louis’d made his way across the room and flung himself at his boyfriend, knocking over the bottle of nail polish as he peppered the boy’s face with kisses.

“Louis!” Harry pouted, although a fond smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Look what you did, you buffoon.”

“Leave it,” Louis said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll clean it up later.” He untangled himself from his boy, plopping down next to Liam again. “So you’re afraid of being love with Niall, right?”

Liam shook his head, sneaking his arms around Louis’ waist and burying his face in his chest. “No,” he mumbled against the fabric. “Just think he deserves better.”

“Better than what, exactly? Better than a boy who cares so much? Better than a boy who feels so intensely? Better than a boy who loves so deeply?” Louis ran gentle fingers over his back, up and down in a soothing rhythm. “A boy who deserves so much more than he believes he does?” he whispered.

Liam didn’t reply, watched quietly how Harry painted Louis’ nails a deep sea blue, wordlessly offered his hand to get his nails done in golden green.

(Nail polish stains, as it turned out, were impossible to remove from sofa cushions.)

//

 

**Open when your heart feels lighter again.**

I hope I get to see you, wherever it is that I’m going. The worst thing about dying is not knowing what’s going to happen to you, when all I want is for you to be safe and happy and loved.

(You’re always gonna be loved. Just because I’m not here anymore doesn’t mean I’m not in love with you anymore.)

On the topic of lighter – remember that joke Harry told us once? “What can you put in a bucket to make it lighter?”

(Do you remember?)

(A torch.)

(I hope he still makes stupid jokes like that.)

Z.

P.S. Sorry that this letter is all over the place. I’m getting another scan tomorrow and I can’t sleep. I’m scared.

//

“Please, Li, I _really_ want to see the sunset on the ferris wheel with you,” Niall begged, pulling the other boy’s hand.

“It’s so cliché!” Liam protested. “Even Harry isn’t that cliché.”

Niall moved closer, lips _nearly_ touching Liam’s. “Baby, please,” he whispered.

Liam’s eyes dropped to his boyfriend’s lips, helpless. He leaned in for a kiss, but Niall quickly moved back, tutting. “I’m not kissing you until we go on the ferris wheel.”

“Horan,” Liam sighed exasperated.

“Payne.” Niall levelled him with a look.

“I’m not going on the ferris wheel.”

“I’m not kissing you until you do.”

“Fine. I don’t want you to kiss me anyway,” Liam snapped.

Niall glared at him before rolling his eyes and walking them to a more secluded spot at the fair. “Okay, spit it out. What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam huffed, crossing his arms.

A minute went by as they stared at each other in frustration, until Niall sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, a tired look on his face. “Don’t shut me out. Please…” He reached a hand out and Liam let himself be pulled into his arms. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not over something stupid like this.”

“Then don’t make me go on there,” Liam mumbled, wrapping his arms around Niall’s waist, hiding his face in his neck.

They stood together for what felt like an eternity, people passing by every so often, laughter and shrieks acting as background noise. The air was warm and filled with excitement for the upcoming summer, but Liam couldn’t suppress a shiver when Niall slid a hand under his shirt, rubbing slow circles on his skin.

“Zayn was scared of heights,” he said quietly.

Niall hummed, resting his head against Liam’s.

“He loved observing the world from a distance. He loved sitting in a hidden corner at the bar and watching people interact, or sitting in a train station and looking at the trains going past, the people behind the windows. He’d go to the park to sketch strangers, come up with stories about their life. And once a year, when the fair came to our village, he’d overcome his fear of heights and come onto the ferris wheel with me, to see things from a different point of view.”

Niall pressed a kiss in his hair, once, twice, a third time, before leaning his forehead against Liam’s. “If you really don’t want to, that’s okay, but I’d really like to go on the ferris wheel with you.”

Liam pressed their lips together, a silent _okay_ , an unspoken _thank you for listening_. Niall’s hand moved up to cup his face, sucking on his lip. Liam forced himself to pull back, keep things decent, pecking Niall’s lips one more time before physically taking a step back and entangling their fingers. “Let’s go then.”

The queue for the ferris wheel had mostly disappeared while they’d had their little discussion, so they were in a gondola before Liam could change his mind. Niall slung his arm around him, thumb rubbing his shoulder. Liam leaned into his body, distractedly picking at a hole in Niall’s jeans.

The way up was quiet, the sounds of the fair becoming a subdued buzz, Niall’s heartbeat against his back. “It’s beautiful up here,” Niall whispered. He was right – the sky was a gorgeous deep purple, fading into a bright pink and orange closer to the horizon – but Liam had his eyes screwed shut.

Too much. Too bright.

Too soon.

_I miss you I miss you I miss you_

“Babe…” Niall said helplessly, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears. Liam pressed himself impossibly closer, sobbing into Niall’s T-shirt. “Shh… I’m here, I’m here,” Niall mumbled.

_but he’s not_

Liam tried to focus on Niall’s breathing, but his body was shaking in an attempt to draw in air, and there was a rush in his ears that made it hard to listen to the soothing whispers. The ride down seemed to take forever, and while the wracking sobs had calmed slightly by the time they got off, Liam’s legs were not yet working, nor had his tears dried.

“Come on,” Niall said, guiding them to the side of the wheel. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

The ground was warm, concrete heated up by the summer sun, and Liam focused on the ice cream that was slowly melting just a few metres away. Niall’s hand rested at the bottom of his spine, thumb stroking over his shirt. He was keeping a distance, seemingly unsure what Liam needed, and Liam rested his head against the fence behind him.

He was so tired.

Around them, everyone continued living their lives. Nobody paid attention to the two boys sitting on the ground. Children ran past, begging their parents for one more go on the merry-go-round, an older man sat on a bench eating a hotdog, a group of girls posed for pictures in front of the colourful trees. The world kept spinning. Liam wondered if there was a universe in which he was right where he was, with Zayn by his side.

“Can you hold me?” he asked when he found his voice again. “Please.”

Niall immediately wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing his hip. “Better?”

Liam hummed. “Much. Sorry for making a scene.”

“Sorry for pushing you.”

Liam pressed a kiss to his lips. “Not your fault.”

The two boys sat in silence for a little while longer, the ferris wheel finishing four more rounds. “D’you wanna get cotton candy and go back home?” Liam suggested, already taking Niall’s hand.

“Always up for cotton candy,” he smiled.

In the dark, the walk back to the dorms seemed endless, but Liam was giggling too much to notice. Niall had finished his cotton candy in record time and now kept trying to rip pieces off of Liam’s, who attempted to save it by using his (slight) height advantage in his favour. “Niall! Oh my god,” he laughed when he got fingers digging in his sides. “You had your own, leave me alone!”

“Yours was bigger!”

“No, it wasn’t, you idiot,” Liam shrieked, shaking his head fondly and grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “Be nice,” he told him sternly.

“I’m always nice,” Niall grumbled, but he ceased his efforts nonetheless. “ _You_ ’re the one that’s not nice by not wanting to share.”

“You had your own,” Liam repeated before kissing the pout of Niall’s lips. It was meant to be a quick peck, but Niall grabbed his head and pressed his tongue more insistently against Liam’s lips, until he let it slip in his mouth, tasting the sweetness.

Suddenly, Niall pulled away, and before Liam realised what was happening, he saw him stuffing a big piece of cotton candy in his mouth. Liam’s mouth fell open in shock. “You – bastard!”

Niall smiled angelically, pressing a sticky kiss to Liam’s cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“I’m breaking up with you,” Liam said, no heat behind his words.

“Finally,” Niall sighed, before laughing loudly. “Come on, babe, let’s go home.”

(Home hadn’t had a meaning for a long time. Until now.)

//

 

**Open when you’ve said I love you.**

How lucky you are to have fallen in love twice. How lucky you are to be loved by so many.

Z.

//

It started with a news report. “Potentially the highlight of the summer season for 2018, the Perseid Meteor reaches its peak tomorrow night.”

Liam pulled the sheets further over his head in an attempt to block out the noise, feeling the rumble of Niall’s chest as he laughed. A lazy hand found its way to his hair and scratched gently at his scalp, untangling the knots from their beach trip the day before. Liam balanced on the edge of consciousness, enjoying Niall’s quiet singalong to the radio. When he opened his eyes, the room was lit up golden – they had forgotten to close the curtains. Niall’s eyes shimmered and Liam couldn’t help but press a kiss onto his chest, too hazy to move but too in love to not kiss him.

“We should go stargazing,” Niall murmured, pulling Liam up for a proper kiss. “Watch the meteors.”

Liam hummed non-committedly, instead focussing on the softness of Niall’s lips, licking off the last remnants of sea salt. Moving along his jawline, he pressed kisses to his skin until he reached Niall’s earlobe, biting it softly. It earned him a squeeze on the hip as Niall laughed. “Leave my ear alone, you weirdo.”

“You like it,” Liam retorted, nuzzling his face into Niall’s neck and closing his eyes again – he could stay here forever, in this space between sleep and wake, where time didn’t exist and the outside world was far away.

“Li, let’s go stargazing,” Niall repeated.

“Is it stargazing if it’s a meteor shower?” Liam asked, grinning up at his boyfriend.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Semantics,” he said before kissing Liam quiet.

It started with a news report, and it ended with them at the lake nearby, cuddled up under a blanket.

“This is like what they do in any teen drama movie ever. When did we become such a romantic cliché?” Liam asked, wrapping his arm around Niall’ waist. Where Zayn had been sharp lines and pointy bones, Niall had a softness to him that begged to be touched at all times.

“Says the one who wanted to kiss in the rain literally two days ago,” Niall reminded him, settling in against his shoulder, pressing a fleeting kiss in his neck.

Liam sighed. Maybe that hadn’t been his finest plan – their teeth had clashed together as they’d shivered violently, rain soaking them to their underwear. His shoes were still not entirely dry.

In the silence of the night, Liam could hear the vague sound of church clocks ringing in midnight. The grand finale of the meteor shower was predicted for the early morning, but he could feel his body getting tired already. “Do these count as shooting stars?” he wondered quietly.

Niall stifled a laugh. “Babe. You do realise that shooting stars are not actually stars, right? They’re meteors. So yes, they count as shooting stars.”

“Lots of wishes to be made then,” Liam yawned.

“Yeah? Wanna tell me?”

“They don’t come true if you tell anyone,” Liam frowned, flicking Niall’s nose. “Do you not know the rules?”

Niall poked his side, then let his hand rest on Liam’s stomach. “It doesn’t count if you tell your boyfriend, I’m pretty sure that’s a rule, too.”

“Liar,” Liam told him.

Niall pecked his lips. “I’ll go first.” He stared up at the sky. “I wish… that I beat Harry at golf next week.”

“You know you will though, he’s shit,” Liam smiled.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask for some divine help. Your turn.” He toyed with the hem of Liam’s shirt, pushing it up slightly. Liam involuntarily shivered in the cold night air, but then Niall’s hand was back, warming his skin.

He leaned his head on top of Niall’s, thinking. “I wish…”

_For Zayn to come back. For Zayn to have never left._

_I wish for my heart to heal._

_I wish for time to rewind._

“I wish for,” he repeated, more quietly, “a chocolate cake on my birthday.”

_Chocolate cake had been their shared favourite._

“Is that a subtle hint, Payne?” Niall teased.

“Don’t know why you would think that,” Liam said, kissing the smirk off Niall’s face. They let themselves be distracted for a moment, lips moving in synchrony. Niall was a good kisser, Liam thought. He liked to tease the boy about all the practice he’d had when he was single – Louis had told him Niall got very _affectionate_ when drunk.

“I wish,” Niall whispered against his lips, “for my knee not to get worse.”

Niall’s knee had been hindering him for months now, playing up unexpectedly one day and being completely fine the next. Doctors had told him it wasn’t an issue for now, but he had to keep an eye on it in case it got worse. Liam often found Niall mindlessly massaging his knee after a game, worried about every little twitch.

“Just gotta be careful not to slip on the grass again,” Liam smirked, remembering vividly when Niall slipped over a wet patch, tumbling down and only barely avoiding landing straight on his knee. Louis happened to be filming and had posted the video on his Snapchat, adding #OhNoNiall as the caption. The football team never failed to bring it up anytime anyone fell during a game.

Niall pinched the skin on his stomach. “We don’t talk about that.”

A laugh escaped Liam’s throat and he buried his face in Niall’s hair for a second. “Right, I forgot it was a sensitive topic.” He bit his lip. “Like your knee.”

Niall smacked his leg, moving away, but Liam tightened his grip on him. “ _Nooo_ , stay here, I’m comfy.”

“Stop bullying me,” Niall whined.

Liam moved in for an apologising kiss, which Niall returned, biting Liam’s lower lip softly in retaliation. Above their heads, the falling stars continued crossing the sky.

“I wish for sunshine and hot days until September,” Liam continued easily.

Niall nodded approvingly. “I wish for Ireland to win the World Cup,” he added.

Liam suppressed a smile. “That one might be a bit too unrealistic, babe.”

“Not unrealistic, optimistic. Which, by the way, also fits my next wish. Which is for Louis to stop calling me Neil.”

“To be honest, I think Ireland will win the World Cup before Louis does that.”

“A man can dream,” Niall sighed, cuddling in closer, legs tangling together. A comfortable silence settled over them, both boys looking off into the infinity of space. Liam followed the tracks of each falling star, thumb mindlessly rubbing circles on Niall’s hip. He could feel the breath of his boyfriend against his neck, warm puffs of air breaking the chill of the night. A feeling of content settled in his bones.

He pressed his lips to the top of Niall’s head, the faint scent of lavender hitting his nose. Niall had bought himself a large bottle of fancy, expensive lavender shampoo to celebrate summer and before long, Liam couldn’t pass a lavender bush without thinking of his boy (and his habit of taking ridiculously long showers).

“Make a wish,” Niall prompted quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I wish… to graduate with distinction,” Liam confessed. It hadn’t been something he had aimed for at the beginning of his academic career, knowing he was going to have to work hard just to pass his exams, but at some point during his second year, things had clicked into place and he ended up being only a few marks of. Now that he knew he could do it, he was determined to get the grades and make it official.

“You will,” Niall said confidently. “You’re smart like that.” He pecked Liam’s lips. “I wish for us to roadtrip together.”

Liam smiled warmly at the thought. “Yeah? Where d’you wanna go?”

Niall sat up, letting Liam’s arm fall from his shoulder and taking his hand instead. His eyes locked with Liam’s, ocean blue exploring autumn brown. He didn’t look away when he said: “Anywhere with you.”

His intense gaze was too much for Liam, who surged forward, connecting their lips, hands coming up to cradle Niall’s face. There was too much tongue and the angle was slightly awkward and Niall’s knee dug into his side but he _needed_ this like he needed air. He whispered _I love you_ in the gap between their lips, let the darkness swallow it. “I love you,” he repeated, with the stars as their witnesses.

Right there, they stayed wrapped up in each other until the sun lit the world up golden. Belonging.

//

 

**Open when you’ve gone a day without thinking about me.**

As I’m writing this letter, I wonder when you’ll read it. I wonder if you’ll read it within a few months of my passing, or if it has been years since. I wonder if you’re in university still, or if you spend your days behind a desk, or maybe you’ve become a stay-at-home-dad and are chasing your youngest child. I wonder if you have someone to hold you at night and kiss you in the morning and love you all the time. I wonder if you still play football, or if the only exercise you get is the walk to and from the coffee machine. I wonder if your hair is still wavy – maybe you got a buzz cut, or maybe you’re going bald like your dad. I wonder if there are tattoos on your body that I never got to see. I wonder if you sometimes think about what we could have been.

Z.

//

Healing took time. There were still nights when Liam would quietly cry himself to sleep, and days where his heart felt numb. He still turned his head whenever he caught sight of raven-haired boys with tattoos, and he still thought of Zayn when the smell of smoke hit his nose. He still got reminded of him when Niall fooled around with his guitar, making up silly songs, because Zayn used to drive him crazy the exact same way. More than the big moments, it were the little things that triggered memories, but time passed and tears dried and hearts healed.

And so came the day where he didn’t think of Zayn, didn’t shed a single tear, didn’t feel a single pang of pain break his heart.

They’d gone away on a short trip, just the two of them, to a tiny bungalow somewhere at the border of a forest, where only the birds chatted with them. A hammock had been hung between two sturdy-looking trees and they spent most of their days cocooned in the warm cosiness of each other’s arms. It was August again, but the skies were cloudy and the darkness cold, so they didn’t stay up to watch the stars. Rather, they spent long hours between the sheets, mapping each other’s bodies, tracing veins and kissing wherever they could touch.

Their love wasn’t perfect and neither were they, but Liam could taste a future on Niall’s lips whenever they kissed, and that alone made him hold on just a little tighter.

//

 

**Open when you’re ready.**

We didn’t get forever together, but we will meet again.

I love you and I’m proud of you, always always always.

The world is lucky to have you.

Z.

//

“Niall!”

“Yeah?” his voice came from downstairs.

Liam walked halfway down the stairs, leaning over the railing. He could see Niall’s feet propped up against the armrest of the sofa, a white fluff ball curled up on his legs. “Babe, we’re supposed to be leaving in ten, stop cuddling the bunnies and get changed.”

“As if they expect us to be on time,” Niall huffed.

Rolling his eyes, Liam walked back into the bathroom. “Ten minutes, Horan, or I’m leaving without you!”

The threat was useless; eight minutes later, Liam had brushed his teeth, done his hair, and got dressed, while Niall was still lounging on the sofa. Liam shook his head, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as he fit himself next to Niall, hand coming to rest on the bunny perched on top of his boyfriend’s chest. “Hello, Peaches,” he murmured. “Are you enjoying the attention? Got all comfy, didn’t you?” The honey-coloured bunny stretched, nose scrunching up.

“Liam, look,” Niall whined, “How can you say no to that little face?”

“Oh, it’s the bunnies that want you to stay, is it? Not just you being a lazy git?”

“Blossom fell asleep, do you want me to be heartless and wake her up?” Niall said offended.

Liam nosed his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, actually.” He sat up, scooping up the sleeping bunny from Niall’s legs. She opened an eye, shooting him a betrayed look. “I know,” he cooed, “I’m sorry. You can nap some more when we’re gone, sweet pea.” He kissed her between her ears before carefully placing her in the pen, where she immediately took shelter in the little house.

Begrudgingly, Niall sat up as well, holding Peaches in his arms. “Sorry, Peach, you know how daddy is.”

Liam scowled at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, daddy,” Niall smirked, pecking his lips, Liam pinching his hip in retaliation.

“Get changed, you nuisance.”

In the end, they were only ten minutes late when they arrived at Harry and Louis’ place. Liam hugged Harry when he opened the door. “Sorry, Haz, you know how he is,” he said, nodding at Niall.

“Oh, I know, got one of those myself,” Harry grinned, pulling Niall into a hug as well.

Louis appeared behind him, bumping his hip. “Oi, none of that or I’m getting a divorce before we’re even married.”

“I told you, Lou, it’s illegal to threaten your fiancé with divorce at your engagement party,” Harry sighed, grabbing Louis’ hand to pull him in for a quick kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis nodded, eyes glistening. “Come on in, lads, there’s food and beer in the garden!”

Later that evening, Liam escaped to the first floor to get away from the noise for a little while. He’d lost Niall to the beer pong a bit earlier, so he didn’t expect anyone to come looking for him. Nonetheless, the door creaked open after a few minutes. “Liam?” Louis voice asked softly.

“Yeah,” Liam replied just as quietly, leaning up on his elbows from where he was laying on the bed.

“You alright?” Louis laid down next to him, hand propped up under his head.

Liam nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Louis was quiet for a bit. “I thought maybe things got a bit too much. I know you get emotional when you’ve drunk.”

A soft laugh escaped Liam’s lips. “I had one beer.”

“ _Still_ ,” Louis insisted. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I know.”

They fell quiet once again, the sounds from the garden party creating a low background noise, bursts of laughter breaking the silence every so often.

“I miss him, you know,” Louis whispered.

Liam knew. He did, too.

“He’d be happy for you,” he told Louis. “He once told me he wanted to make an art piece based on you two. Never got around to it, in the end, but he wanted to.”

“We’re thinking of using one of his pieces for the invitation. The painting he did with all the coloured spatters.”

Liam smiled; the spatter series was one of his favourites. “That’d be cool.”

“And we don’t want wedding gifts, we think, so Harry thought it’d be nice to have a donation bin to raise money for cancer research.”

Tears welled up in Liam’s eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but we want to,” Louis replied easily.

Liam wrapped his arms around his friend, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

“I know you do. I love you, too. Now come on, let’s go find your boy before he drunkenly snogs my boy again.”

Liam rolled his eyes, sneaking a look at the stars before he followed Louis downstairs. If Zayn were out there, he hoped he could see that he’d found happiness again.

//

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave some feedback below or come talk to me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall).


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